When the Villian Comes Home Page 10

  I wonder what colour my eyes are.

  5

  The glow from the perimeter of torches lights my path as I approach. I need a bed, a hearth and a bath. Within a few feet of the first house, the protectors step out of their concealment. So keen on the idea of a bath, I had not even noticed them in the shadows.

  The forest does not speak to me, today. I hope it is because it does not fear for me.

  Their tall leader stands before me. I tense, fearing that he will tease me, push me down, punch me. Try to run me out of town. I lower my eyes, and struggle to keep my breaths steady.

  He takes another step closer. Sweat drips into my eye.

  “Name’s Klurk. Don’t see the likes of you around these parts too often,” his voice rumbles. “How’d you get here?”

  There is a softness, even concern in his voice that make me look up. He examines me closely. I blush.

  “I, I…” I swallow and refocus. They need a plausible story. “I heard the days of darkness had ended and wished to return home. But we were attacked. My retinue fought bravely to protect me.” I look down, using my fear of the protectors to pass as my fear of demons.

  He nods, absorbing my story. His grip tightens on his broadsword. I begin to shrink away before realizing his anger is not aimed at me, but rather at what has been done to me. I thought I knew men like him. But I didn’t. Put knew men like him. Raiser had bathed in the blood of men like him. But I have just encountered my first and can’t predict his reactions to me.

  “Well, lady…” He pauses.

  I look back up and give a tentative smile. I hope it isn’t encouraging. The name tumbles off my tongue, resonating like wind chimes in my mind. “Atilda.”

  “Lady Atilda. You can stay with us. There is nothing to fear here.”

  I nod and follow them into the village. On the field of my tired mind, emotions battle each other. I am grateful to have gained access where Put had not, but angry he had been sent back into the forest to die; terrified that they will discover I am he, and yet hopeful they will discover I am Raiser.

  I would love to see their faces when they realize just how much they have to fear.

  5

  My hair is brown, though in certain light it is almost red. My eyes are dark, and the green dress I wear hugs my curves. I walk to the mayor’s house, smiling at the villagers, who tentatively return the gesture. A little girl exclaims at my beauty, and my smile deepens. I have never known this kind of attention.

  The village is scarred with dirt roads leading to an old well that marks its centre, and the hamlet also boasts one small library and a city hall. The houses on its eastern edge are charred where some of Raiser’s scouts swept through, but the villagers fought them off. The men—all young, able-bodied ones, anyway—had then gone off to join the armies of the Parliamentarians. Over the past week, they have been streaming back, finding their way to their homes, haunted looks dancing in their shadowy eyes.

  Songs of victory drift from the inn, still open from last night despite the fact that it is now almost lunchtime. They sing of beating back the armies of Raiser. The tune is catchy and I find myself tapping it on my thigh, trying to remember the lyrics.

  Then the leader of the protectors, Klurk, pipes up, singing over them all, and my hand freezes. I glance in to see him punch another singer and throw him over a table. I frown and walk on.

  The mayor is outside his home and stands as he sees me, taking a long look at the woman before him. I smile and extend my hand, which he greedily kisses.

  His son, who resembles the mayor, steps up and glances at his father, embarrassed. I smile and he returns it, his dark eyes lighting up. A breeze ruffles my dress and tousles his thick, brown hair. A scar runs down the side of his face, adding to his beauty. My heart swells in relief that Raiser did not kill him.

  He clears his throat and his father lets my hand go. He speaks before his father: “I was surprised when Klurk told me a noble lady had been found.” His eyes hold mine captive, my knees weaken as the sun hits his face and highlights his strong features. “But you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  I thank him and stay for lunch. And supper.

  And for the few following months.

  5

  I awake in total darkness, muffling a cry. The darkness used to be my home, my comfort. Now it cloaks me with fear.

  I reach up, my own hands feeling strange as they touch the side of my face. Beside me Malski stirs, and I quickly jump out bed so that he will not reach out for me.

  My legs feel foreign to me, too short, too clumsy. I stumble in the dark, going into the next room, and close the door behind me. Malski begins to snore softly again. My hands feel thicker. I grasp at objects with difficulty. I manage to grab the lantern and some fire. With trembling fingers, I light and look into the mirror.

  I choke on the cry I feared would escape.

  Put is looking back at me, water streaming from his eyes as though he shares my grief.

  5

  I leave the house before my mind is overcome by fear, the wisps of Atilda shedding as easily as Raiser had. I throw on her cloak, saddle her horse, and lead it gently to the edge of the village before pulling myself up with a gasp at the shortness of my legs and arms. I had not realized Atilda was so much taller than Put.

  The stirrups are too low for me. I grip the beast with my thighs and gallop towards the west, where I had last encountered Raiser.

  I did not miss Raiser, but I already miss Atilda. Her self-confidence, her command of a room, her love of Malski…I intend to get her back.

  The only magic that would allow me to retain her shape forever is my orb of power, shattered by Raiser’s enemies months ago. Raiser’s old fortress lies in shambles, now declared cursed and avoided by sane men. But if a shard remains of that orb, no matter how miniscule, I will find it, and absorb it.

  As distance grows between myself and the village, I become more and more careless thrashing through the brush, thinking only of gentle Atilda and of finding her again.

  5

  Rocks piled on rocks and metal mark the spot where once the great tower had stood, casting its shadow across the lands, a feat of science and magic. Raiser would be furious to see it in such a state.

  I fall off my horse and scramble up the rocks, letting my senses guide me. That is the one thing I could always count on: my ability to find the magic and to possess it. A minor talent, according to those who denied me access to the university.

  My muscles throb.

  I showed them! Raiser’s voice echoes in the depths of my mind and I smile. Raiser showed them. And the whole world.

  I pause, sensing a shard of my orb nearby. So small. I continue scrambling, leaving bloodied handprints when rocks cut me, the broken tower singing Raiser’s return. My muscles throb and twitch, and I lose my footing.

  So close.

  I fall, hard, on my back. A stone nearby stumbles down and my hand reaches for something. I look and see that I reach not with my hand, but Raiser’s large, unwieldy hand. I scream, Raiser’s voice escaping my lungs, deep and grating.

  “No!”

  The tower is changing me to Raiser. But it is the tower’s will, not my own! Raiser would never let Atilda return, and I fight him, a strangled cry escaping my lips. Something pricks my finger, barely catching my attention through my thickened skin.

  I look at the small wound in the large hand, where crimson blood trickles down the finger onto the palm. In the wound rests a shard of my orb, glowing purple with magic as my greedy skin absorbs it. I smile, baring Raiser’s sharp teeth, letting the shard inject itself into my bloodstream and reach my heart, where it nests.

  “The power is mine,” I grumble, gently stroking a rock beside me, grieving for what I made and lost. “We will avenge you, someday.”

  And I will not let Put out ag
ain. Put’s fear undid me when my tower fell. Fear: a terrain Put was so much more familiar with, a terrain I had let him navigate, knowing he would let me rise again once he was cornered or helpless. But Put had not unleashed Raiser. He had instead unleashed another.

  I stand, my knees buckling almost immediately, and I fall hard. My tower catches me, panic streaming from deep within my own mind. Panic, and a will I have never sensed before.

  Put never benefited from an ally before. Now he and Atilda are pairing their will and strength to force her back to the surface. I scream, my own echo sounding hollow in my changing ears.

  I roar, the mountains whipping my words back: “I will never leave!”

  My muscles snap. My bones shrink. I gasp and Raiser is gone.

  I wrap myself in my tattered clothes, breathe in smoke and decay as I whisper in answer to Raiser’s vanishing echo: “Neither will I.”

  I lower my head into my hands and weep for everything Raiser and Put were, and the love they will never know. I fight down Raiser’s echo, still clutching my mind. Put has settled down quietly again, content.

  “What are you?” The familiar voice assails me as I carefully make my way back down the broken tower, ignoring the trail of blood Put left in his despair. I am barefoot, my feet scrape against the rocks. My nightgown is mostly shredded from Raiser’s large frame.

  Klurk stands at the base of the rubble. The fear in his eyes tells me that he saw everything. He quickly closes the gap between us, the tip of his sword cold under my chin. My weary mind struggles to find an answer when Malski and his men jump through the forest wall.

  My heart surges and I begin to cry, tears streaming down my face. Klurk looks even more confused.

  “Klurk, what are you doing!” Malski cries as he runs to him, bringing his sword to Klurk’s back. “Lower your sword!”

  “But, she’s…”

  “Now!” I have never heard those tones in Malski’s voice before. I weep more.

  The sword lowers and Malski gathers me in his arms. His men beat down and tie a protesting Klurk.

  I let myself be held, surrounded by the scent of him, by his strong arms and the sound of his heart beating. My breath lifts with his, my arms tighten like his. This is where I want to stay.

  “He won’t hurt you again,” Malski whispers, kissing my hair, my neck, my lips.

  “She’s a monster! She’s Raiser, I swear!” Klurk screams.

  Malski laughs, a slow rumble erupting from his lips as he speaks. “You are mad, Klurk! You assaulted an innocent woman!”

  The next words escape my lips before I can stop them, as though spoken by someone else, shards of Raiser clinging to my soul. “For a sacrifice.”

  Malski’s eyes grow wide as he looks at me.

  I take a deep breath. “For a sacrifice. Innocent blood of a high born would have given him his powers back.”

  “His powers?”

  I look at Klurk, whose face clouds over with fear. I hold his eyes as I speak the words that doom him.

  “The powers of darkness. I’ve seen it, Malski. He’s Raiser.”

  5

  My delicate hand sits nimbly in Malski’s hand. He turns and smiles at me, and I return the gesture, unafraid. His eyes narrow a bit, not out of fear, but out of love. He squeezes my fingers gently, as though afraid of breaking me. I flush and look down.

  This body is not unfamiliar to me, though I do not think I have ever assumed its shape before Atilda. It feels frail around me, but less frail than Put. And stronger than Raiser. Perhaps because I no longer walk alone.

  I look at the skirt dancing around my feet, mimicking the movements of air, and I smile.

  The final words have been spoken and the crowd grows hushed. I look up to the platform. The executioner pulls the lever. Klurk’s eyes bulge as he drops and swings.

  His neck is thick and it does not snap, the rope swinging him back and forth. He struggles as the breath is slowly squeezed out of him. I remember how he took me into the village and made sure I was safe. Klurk is suffering, his eyes rolling back so far I fear they might pop. The crowd coos in disgust and entertainment.

  Raiser would have let him suffer, even extending his life to secure more suffering. Put would have cowered. But I, Atilda, am kind and strong. One final spell will do; one last spell before I hoard my remaining magic to keep Raiser and Put at bay.

  Klurk’s eyes stop scrambling and focus on mine. The tendrils of my magic wrap around his internal organs and squeeze the life out of him, bringing quicker release. I do not believe it is anger or fear that I see. I believe it is gratitude. And I, in turn, am grateful for it.

  I lean back into Malski. He wraps his arms protectively around me. It is over. The people sing of Raiser’s death.

  And now, all that remains is my happily ever after.

  MARIE BILODEAU is an Ottawa-based science fiction and fantasy author. Her space fantasy novel, Destiny’s Blood, was a finalist in the Aurora Awards and won the ForeWord Book of the Year Bronze Medal for Science Fiction. Her short story “The Legend of Gluck” from When the Hero Comes Home was also a finalist for the Aurora Award. She is also the author of Heirs of a Broken Land, a fantasy trilogy described as “fresh and exciting” by Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo award-winning author of Wake. Her short stories have appeared in several magazines and anthologies.

  THE LITTLE THINGS

  Richard Lee Byers

  Antoinette’s chest still ached, and she had a foul, hot chemical taste in her mouth, but she stopped coughing first. Maybe it was because Dr. Umbra had inhaled a bigger dose of toxic smoke, carrying her clear of the burning base. Anyway, he was still hacking. He’d even pulled up his black mask to uncover his mouth and nostrils.

  Best to slip away before he recovered. She took a step backward and thought she was being quiet. But he lurched around in a swirl of cloak and pointed a raygun. His hand in its dark glove shook.

  She called up her power. Electricity shivered inside her like a caffeine buzz, and sparks fell from her fingertips.

  I can fry him, she thought. He’s weak. But she didn’t want to anymore. He was a superhero, but he’d risked his life to save hers after her supposed friends and allies abandoned her to die.

  Another fit of coughing doubled him over.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” she said. “I just want out. Let me walk away and I promise nobody will ever hear from Sweet Lady Q again.”

  He stared at her through one-way lenses. Then the pistol vanished, teleported back to wherever he kept it.

  5

  The black dye job and the glasses were a disguise, but Cathy still recognized her little sister standing in the yellow glow of the porch light. Her blue eyes widened, and she gasped.

  “It’s okay,” Antoinette said. “Nobody’s after me. The authorities think I’m dead.”

  “I have a little boy,” Cathy said. “I can’t afford to get in trouble.”

  “You won’t. I’m done with the supervillain thing. I want a normal life, and I want it in the town where my family is. Can I come in?”

  After another moment, Cathy let her into the cramped living room of her side of the duplex. A stale smell hung in the air, and a brown stain mottled the ceiling. Gunfire, or rather, the sound of it on the neighbors’ TV, banged through the wall.

  Antoinette frowned. “That’s kind of loud for this late at night.”

  Cathy waved her to an armchair with a tear at one corner of the backrest. “The wall’s thin, and you can’t run complaining to people about every little thing.”

  “I suppose.”

  Cathy sat down on the couch. “Look, Nettie, I love you and I’ve missed you every single day. But you’re also why I had to change my name and move across country just for a chance at a normal life. Before I even think about having anything more to do with you, I need to know: Why are you doing
this, and why are you doing it now? How can I be sure you mean what you’re saying?”

  Antoinette felt hurt. “When did I ever lie to you?”

  “When you were lying to yourself, too.”

  Antoinette sighed. “Okay. Maybe that’s fair. So let me tell you about the fabulous life of a supercriminal. The police shoot at me. Heroes as strong as elephants beat me up. I work with people I can never trust stealing money I almost never spend on anything fun because I’m too busy running and hiding. If you were me, wouldn’t you quit?”

  “Yes, but I’m not you.”

  “I swear, I’m done with it.”

  Cathy studied her the way Dr. Umbra had. Then she smiled. “All right then, sis. Welcome home.”

  5

  The duplex didn’t look any less shabby in the morning light. The noise from the neighbors’ TV, now the giddy babble of a talk show, still leaked in from next door.

  But if Antoinette’s surroundings scarcely seemed like an improvement over the rattiest safe houses where Sweet Lady Q had gone to ground at one time or another, the company was. Paul, her nephew, was a skinny, towheaded kid in love with astronomy and astronautics. She was putting off telling him who she really was until she was sure he could keep the secret, so she couldn’t say that she herself had flown in orbit and visited the moon. But she could still talk knowledgably about space travel, and the two of them hit it off.

  His chattering enthusiasm brightened up the place while they crunched their way through a breakfast of store-brand corn flakes and Cathy hurried off to one of her three part-time jobs. Antoinette enjoyed it enough that, when he had to leave for school, she offered to walk him to the bus stop.

  Paul almost seemed to flinch. “No. That’s okay. Mom said you have stuff to do.” He grabbed his backpack and scurried for the door.

  Antoinette sighed. Maybe Paul wasn’t as taken with his mother’s “friend from college” as he’d seemed. Antoinette was okay for a stranger and a grownup, but he didn’t want her around to cramp his style when he was with other kids.

  Still, they’d bond. She was sure of it. She freshened up her coffee and fired up Cathy’s elderly Toshiba PC to check the local job listings.